Hero Training
by YamiPaladinofChaos
Summary: We all know Harrry needs to be trained to fight Voldemort, and we all know that Dumbledore is the one to do it. A rather... different look at Dumbledore's version of training.


Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter.

Harry James Potter walked briskly towards the Headmaster's office. It was still the middle of summer, but he had been brought to Hogwarts for his own protection, and for tutelage under Dumbledore, at Harry's rather... _insistent _arguments.

As he neared the Gargoyle, he nearly froze and a spike of dislike drove into him as Professor Severus Snape swooped past him.

However, instead of receiving the normal glare, sneer, or outright loathing that Snape usually presented him, he received the most frightening look that the dour Potions Master had ever given him.

_A pitying one._

It was only there for a moment, with outright and unbelievable, almost condescending pity in his black eyes.

Suddenly Harry was very, very scared.

As he entered the room, it only got worse.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was holding onto a cane, held in front of him, with a glint that was the third cousin, twice removed, of insanity.

"Welcome, Harry. Much to learn, have you." The Headmaster said sagely.

The Boy-Who-Lived blinked, once, twice, and then once more, for good measure.

"Wha?" He asked slowly, articulately.

"Train you, I will." Dumbledore remarked, not answering.

"Uh... are you all right sir?" Harry questioned, more than a teensy bit disturbed.

"No more talking!" The professor exclaimed, and rapped the teen's leg with his cane, causing the boy to cry out in surprise and pain.

"What was that for!"

"No talking!"

"OW! Stop hitting me with that cane!"

* * *

Harry Potter was now just the slightest bit irritated and fearing for his mentor's sanity.

"Sir," He gasped wearily, "What... does... me... carrying you... on... my back... have to... do... with... magic?"

Albus Dumbledore, currently situated on the shoulders of an extremely worn down Boy-Who-Lived, rapped him in the head with the cane. "Quit your bitching, you must." He replied sternly, effectively browbeating Harry into silence.

That whole talking in that strange, broken manner was also getting really, really annoying, when coupled with frequent blows with that damn cane.

Finally, after another minute of carrying the taller and surprisingly heavier old man, Harry collapsed onto the ground, sprawled and breathing heavily.

For a moment, he let sweat roll off of him like a heavy rain... maybe he could just-

WHACK

"Sonofabitch," Harry swore under his breath, rubbing his sore arm where he had just been struck.

"Get back up, you must." Dumbledore insisted.

"With all due to respect sir, _fuck you_ sir." The Boy-Who-Lived retorted testily, groaning.

"Much more to do, we have. Lazy, you must not be." The Headmaster proclaimed, giving him a light tap with the cane.

"Don't wanna..." Harry whined, but understandably. You don't carry someone half a mile while they keep hitting you with a cane and not be exhausted.

Suddenly, he felt himself rising up off the floor, and then spinning, rapidly, like he was on a Muggle roller coaster.

After a few more rotations, he was let back down on his feet. When the sense of vertigo had passed, he glared at the smirking Dumbledore.

"Very funny."

* * *

"Next, Harry. Great evil, you must fight." The Headmaster explained in that same tone.

Harry felt a tinge of excitement. At last... would he fight Dementors? Or Death Eaters? Or maybe the Dark Lord himself?

"House elves serve burrito night." He shook his head in disgust. "Much clogging, there is." Dumbledore handed Harry a plunger.

"You must be kidding me." The Boy-Who-Lived said disbelievingly.

"Best of luck, I wish you." He transfigured a pool chair and sat in it, closing his eyes as if he was asleep.

"I hate you."

* * *

Crawling from the bathroom, Harry Potter, destined savior of the Wizarding World... threw up. "That..." He gasped disgustedly, "Was the most degrading thing I've ever had to do..."

Albus Dumbledore glanced at him from the pool chair, where he was reading some rather... _risque _material. Blushing furiously at the suggestive content on the very cover, Harry asked in disbelief, "Have you been reading this entire time!"

"Done, you are?" The Headmaster questioned. "Very good. Now, after five laps around Hogwarts castle, eat, you will." With that, he turned back to his... reading material.

Harry looked at him in disbelief, and wondered if Voldemort could forgive all those times he thwarted him. Being a Death Eater had to be better than this shit.


End file.
